To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane
by Roslyn Drycof
Summary: To avoid becoming a Death Eater, Draco copies Hamlet and pretends to be insane. Harry acquires a phobia of performing magic, and Lockhart, who likes to be called Rooney, has a friend who's a talking wall. These three share a therapist. HPDM, humor, slash
1. Draco, Prince of Slytherin

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

* * *

**To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane**

**Draco, Prince of Slytherin**

_By: Roslyn Drycof_

No.

I can't.

I refuse.

I absolutely will not.

There is no force on heaven and earth that can make me do this.

. . . what?

No.

They wouldn't.

They can't.

Mother!

Please, stop this!

Don't just stand there!

I don't _care_ if father is gone!

I'm your _son_!

I have to do something or soon I'm going to be one of those monsters in the ugly masks!

Shit . . . think, Draco, think!

Hamlet!

Hamlet?

Where the fuck did that come from? Oh, nevermind! Think of something _useful_!

Hey, wait a minute. Hamlet! Hamlet pretended to be insane!

Yes!

I can do that and the Dark Lord will think I'm too insane to be a proper Death Eater! All I have to do is be a harmless, idiotic insane and not evil, sadistic insane.

Okay.

I can do that.

Hopefully.

* * *

Draco Malfoy wasn't second in his class for nothing. Ever quick thinking, he stared at his Aunt Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, a plan rapidly forming in his head. They were waiting for his reply at the Dark Lord's request, otherwise known as an ultimatum, to join the ranks of the Death Eaters circled around them. They knew he would accept; he was a smart boy and Lucius had taught him well. He would accept. There was no doubt.

Then why was he taking so bloody long?

A smile suddenly curved the boy's lips and he giggled. "Of course I'll join you! Ooh, it'll be so fun to go around making people quake in fear! All I have to do is wave my wand, give out a few Avadas, and I'll be the best Death Eater you've ever seen!"

Now, all those gathered in Malfoy Mansion immediately suspected the boy of acting. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to act insane to get out of being initiated into the ranks. They had realized their error soon enough. After a few Crucios and some Veritaserum, they had cracked and the truth was told. The Dark Lord even had a special supply of the truth serum on his person at all times for just this purpose.

"Malfoy, I will not tolerate defiance such as this! Halt your nonsense!" the greatest Dark Wizard of the age shouted, his eyes narrowing in fury at the blond-haired boy in front of him.

Draco tilted his head to the side and said, quite brightly, "But I _want_ to be a Death Eater! How can that be defiance if defiance would be to refuse your generous invitation? I would never defy you, for the glory of being one of your followers is so great that I have often wondered if I am worthy enough to be initiated. To have you here in my home, asking me to join you, is a dream I can scarcely imagine!"

Then, abruptly, he strode over to sideboard and uncapped a crystal decanter of brandy. Very efficiently, he poured the expensive liquid into a glass. Then he walked over to Voldemort and held out the full glass to the tall, imposing man. "Would you like a drink, my lord? It's a special brand that the Malfoys secretly produce on one of our smaller estates. I find it quite delicious."

Everyone held their breath. What trick was the boy trying to pull? Was the brandy poisoned? No, it couldn't be, for Malfoy took a sip and held it out again to show that it was perfectly normal. Then why in the hell was he offering a glass of alcohol to their master? This was odd, very odd. Could he really be shy a marble or two?

The Dark Lord frowned at Malfoy, but took the glass. "What kind of game are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"Game? Oh, I love games. I read about this one muggle game where the children hold hands and go around in a circle. I believe they sing something like this:

_Ring around the rosy, _

_Pocket full of posy _

_Ashes to ashes,_

_We all fall down!"_

Draco sang the children's rhyme in a soft, lilting voice, spinning around in a circle with his arms held out as if to hold imaginary hands. He looked so innocent, so guileless, that everyone in that room truly believed that he had gone mad.

His mother fainted.

Bellatrix fumed. Now the boy had ruined her chance at staying in her position as the favored one! The Dark Lord had been planning on rewarding her for suggesting that the brat would be a good replacement for Lucius, and now? Now everything was ruined! Ruined!

Voldemort inwardly sighed. The boy looked truly mad. Perhaps his father's incarceration had addled his brain's more than he had suspected. Drat! Now he couldn't initiate the poor fool. Every wizard worth his salt knew that to let an idiot anywhere near a wand was asking for trouble. Insane wizards tended to lose control of their magic and produce less than desirable results, such as fluffy bunnies, talking trash cans, and the like. He had once had a follower somehow magically remove his spleen and make it so the dratted thing danced around and sang horrible show tunes. And that Lockhart fellow, locked up in St. Mungo's? He'd heard stories about that fellow's escapades and they weren't pretty.

"Malfoy, I've decided to retract my offer. You don't deserve to be a Death Eater," he told the boy, who was now sitting on the floor and tying his shoelaces together.

Draco jumped up, nearly falling over as his shoelaces tightened. He was shaking and looked quite distraught. "But you said I could! You can't do this to me! I need to go around and make people pay for being idiot muggles and mudbloods! I need to show Granger how a pureblood is ten times more superior than a mudblood! And I want to kill Potter for you! I'll do it! I'll get him for you to prove I'm worthy!"

Voldemort suddenly had visions of waking up one day to find Potter standing over his bed, his wand out, and Malfoy saying that he'd brought him Potter, so could he please be a Death Eater now. Hiding a shudder, the Dark Lord raised his wand and shook it threateningly. "You will do no such thing, Malfoy! I have my own plans for the wretch and they do not involve such a disgrace as you!"

The boy broke out into tears. "I'm not a disgrace!"

"You _will _obey me!" Voldemort bellowed, his eyes blazing at the hysterical youth. He threw the half-empty glass of brandy against the wall and it shattered. Pity. That was a very fine brandy. Perhaps he could order Narcissa to hand over that small estate to him so that he could partake of the delicious drink again.

Draco nodded, running a hand across his eyes. Then he let out a choked sob and ran from the room, or at least he attempted to. His tied-together shoelaces caused him to trip and fall flat on his face. The assembled Death Eaters had to hold in their sniggers at the sight. What an idiot!

The silver-eyed boy, his face red from embarrassment, quickly untied his shoelaces, got up, and this time successfully ran out of the room. Then he hid on the stairs and waited for the meeting to end and the Death Eaters to Apparate away.

He didn't have to wait long. Five minutes later, there was a loud _Pop!_ And the Death Eaters were gone. Sighing with relief at his plan miraculously working, he quietly tiptoed up the stairs and into his rooms so that his mother wouldn't catch him looking perfectly normal.

Once inside his spacious bedroom, he collapsed onto his king-sized bed and stared up at the emerald green canopy. Fuck, that had been hard. He'd had to let down every mask he'd ever erected to act like he had no dignity. Since he'd been conscious of his stature in life and how he was supposed to behave since the age of eight, it had been tough.

Lying, staring up at the silky fabric that always reminded him of Potter's eyes, Draco realized with horror that now he would have to keep up his charade until the war was over. Fuck! School started in two weeks! How was he supposed to pretend to be a complete, raving nutter until then?

_Oh, I'm screwed_, he thought, morosely.

* * *

Three days later, Draco was sitting in a cheery office in the psychiatric wing of St. Mungo's. His mother had scheduled him to see a therapist in the hopes that Draco could be returned to normal. Unfortunately, she knew it probably wouldn't happen, as Draco's behavior had only gotten worse since the meeting with the Dark Lord.

Two days ago, he had been caught by a house elf on the roof attempting to fly without a broom. When asked why he simply didn't go get his broom, which was sitting in his room, he replied that he wanted to fly like a hippogriff did, and hippogriff's did not use brooms. Luckily, Sooky had managed to alert Narcissa to his escapade before he could actually leap off the roof. Imagine what a disaster that would have been, trying to explain to the Ministry that her son had fallen to his death off the roof because he wanted to fly like a hippogriff.

Yesterday, he decided that he didn't like being a boy and had turned himself into a forty year old woman. Suffice to say, he didn't like that either. Unfortunately, it took Narcissa three hours to return him to his normal state. And then he started walking on the ceiling. It scared the living daylights out of her to hear a noise and suddenly find Draco standing right above her. That happened several times, and dinner was ruined because he terrified the poor kitchen house elves so badly that they punished themselves for five hours straight.

This morning, thank Merlin, he had only turned his hair emerald green. He said he liked the color because it reminded him of Potter's eyes and wasn't Potter just adorable? Yes, that had frightened Narcissa because who knows what Draco would do if he actually _liked_ the boy? Visions of floating hearts stalking Potter and Draco singing bad poems atop the staff table in the Great Hall plagued Narcissa.

She hoped the therapist would be able to do something. Even just controlling his insanity would be a great help!

And so, she kissed her son on the cheek and told him she'd be back in two hours. He merely grinned at her and started twirling his green hair. She sighed and left.

Draco looked around the therapist's office and saw that there was one other patient in the room. This patient was in a straight jacket and was facing the wall. He appeared to be having a very lively, although one-sided, conversation with that same wall. Draco had to hide a sneer at his idiocy, because Draco himself was playing the idiot and idiots didn't sneer at others' idiocy. Dear Merlin, he had just used the same word four times in the same sentence. Was this pretend insanity actually starting to affect his brain? He hoped not. He wanted to be normal when this was all over with.

"Oh, hello there!" a bright voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see the patient in the straight jacket attempting to wave at him through the thick material of the straight jacket.

Draco decided it would be fun to play the arrogant fool. "I do not wish to talk to you. Go back to your wall."

The man, who had bright blond hair and was in his late thirties, frowned. "Hey, that's mean. And George went to sleep."

He'd named the wall? Okay, it was official. This guy was insane.

Wait. Didn't he look familiar? Oh dear Merlin, it was Lockhart!

"Lockhart!" he blurted out.

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know why everyone persists in calling me that. My name is Rooney, not Lockhart."

Rooney? "What the hell kind of name is Rooney?"

Lockhart pouted. "I like it. What's your name? I like your hair."

"Draco."

His old professor started giggling maniacally. "Ahaha! Draco! That's a funny name! Dray-kho!"

Draco, who had always been sensitive about his name, growled in anger. How dare that fool laugh at his name! He decided that because he was insane, an insane person wouldn't care that he would get in trouble for attacking another patient. Thus, he pulled out his wand and waved it a few times, muttering, "Fligellus Mytomis!"

Lockhart, or Rooney as the man called himself, began to float in the air. He started spinning around in circles, glowing purple. Instead of being mad, he started laughing even harder. "Whee!"

The receptionist, who had not been paying attention until now, shrieked. "Mr. Malfoy! Put him down this instant!"

Draco looked at her and then waved his wand again. He turned her into a teacup. The spinning Lockhart found it hilarious and started shrieking merrily. "Teacup! Teacup Lady! Mahahaha!"

The door to the office suddenly opened and two people walked in. One was Arthur Weasley and the other was Harry Potter. Both froze as soon as they took in the scene. Spinning, laughing insanely Lockhart. Innocent looking Draco Malfoy. What the bloody hell?

After a moment, Arthur unfroze and pulled out his wand. Within seconds, Lockhart had stopped spinning and was sitting back in his seat. The blond-haired man gave him a nasty look and said, "Party pooper. Ooh, I'm dizzy. Eurgh." He looked a bit ill, then.

Mr. Weasley turned to gaze at Draco with suspicion in his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?"

Draco crossed his arms, put his nose in the air, and said, quite snootily, "He was annoying me."

"He's mentally disabled! You could get in real trouble for using magic against him!" the Ministry employee reprimanded.

The green-haired youth snorted. "I think you'll find that the Ministry could not charge me with any misuse of magic as they have decided that I am lacking in the capability of making judgements about morality and such. I, of course, have no inkling as to why they believe this insane notion, but I think the Dark Lord must have a hand in convincing them that I am unworthy of respect. Insane, moi? Indeed!"

Arthur stared at the boy. "Insane? What is the meaning of that?"

Draco shrugged. "Okay, so I attempted to fly off my roof a couple days ago. If hippogriffs can do it, why can't I? And yes, maybe I did accidentally turn myself into forty-year-old woman. I don't see why they think walking on the ceiling is so bad, though. It's actually a quite interesting experience."

Harry, who had been silent the entire time, started laughing. He was attempting to hold the laughter in, but wasn't succeeding. Draco thus glared at him. "I don't see what's so funny, Potter. There's got to be something wrong with you since you're here, too!"

The Gryffindor stopped laughing, although a grin still curved his lips. He shrugged and said, "I've developed some weird phobia where I can't do magic anymore. And my therapist says I have some sort of magical bipolar disorder that is sometimes seen in patients suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Hey, where's Lorna?"

"Lorna?" Draco crinkled his nose. He had no idea who that was, and he was currently busy going over what Potter had just said. He couldn't do magic? But that was bad! He couldn't defeat the Dark Lord and win the war if he couldn't do magic!

Lockhart decided to impart his wisdom here. "Teacup Lady! Mahahaha!"

Harry furrowed his brow at his former professor. "Teacup Lady? What do you mean, Rooney?"

The man in the straight jacket nodded his head at the receptionist's desk, still laughing maniacally. "Teacup Lady!"

Harry looked at the desk, but only saw a teacup sitting there. Teacup Lady? What the-

He turned to look at Malfoy, who had an interesting expression on his features. It was one of complete innocence, and completely fake. "Malfoy, what happened?"

"Nothing."

Harry snorted, and Arthur frowned at the Malfoy heir. "Mr. Malfoy, I insist that you tell the truth."

Draco started singing to himself.

_Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer_

_Had a very shiny nose_

_And if you ever saw it,_

_You would even say it glows –_

Hey! Whatcha do that for?"

Harry had kicked him in the shin. "I felt like it. Besides, its August, not December."

"I know that! But I like that song!"

Arthur saw a fight coming, and so he circumvented it. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll ask you again. Where's the receptionist?"

Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at the teacup. "Lockhart told you already."

Lockhart protested, "My name's Rooney!"

Mr. Weasley and Harry looked at the teacup again. Was Draco completely off his rocker? They knew he looked insane, but to be so crazy as to think a teacup was Lorna?

"That's a teacup, Malfoy," Harry said, snorting in amusement.

Draco sighed, frustrated. "Of course it is! I turned the stupid receptionist into a teacup because she her shrieking was annoying."

Mr. Weasley strode over to the desk and picked up the teacup. Well, it did bear a kind of resemblance to Lorna.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And why was she shrieking?"

"Because I was spinning Lockhart."

"My name's Rooney!"

"_Finite Incantatum_!" Arthur had pulled out his wand and turned Lorna back into a human. She looked terrified and muttered, "I quit. I can't stand crazy people!"

Draco thus said, "That's not politically correct, you know. We are not "crazy people". We are human beings who just happen to have mental conditions that prevent us from behaving as society believes normal people should behave."

"Bravo! Don't you agree, George?" Lockhart called out, turning to face the wall.

The Slytherin pointed at the man in the straight jacket. "He, however, is completely and utterly insane."

"Hey!"

Lockhart's shouted protest was ignored as both Harry and Draco burst into laughter. Yes, Lockhart _was_ crazy. Hell, he'd been crazy even before the screwed up _Obliviate_ had addled his brains.

And then again . . .

A deep voice came out of nowhere and said, "Please do not insult Rooney like that. He's my friend."

"Hi, George! You're awake!" Lockhart shouted with glee. He would have been clapping his hands if he was able, but the straight jacket prevented that.

While the two sane and other two who were marginally sane people stared at the wall, their mouths agape, the deep voice answered, "Yes, and my nap was quite refreshing. I had a most interesting dream. Would you like to hear it?"

And as the wall named George began telling his dream to a rapt Lockhart, also known as Rooney, Harry turned to Draco and whispered, "I think I must be going mad. Is that wall actually talking?"

Draco nodded dumbly. "Well, you're here aren't you?"

He did have a point.

* * *

A/N: Oh yes, this insane story is for real. What do you think? I started writing it in study hall because I was so bored, and I'm reading Hamlet in English class, so boredom/Hamlet insanity. I thought, I could really go somewhere with this. And I will. This story won't merely be a pointless humor fic. It does have substance, as Draco, behind his mask of insanity, will help Harry through his own mental problems. But don't worry, there will be loads of insanity along the way to fixing Harry's phobia of performing magic.

What do you think? Review!

**Sneak Peek at Next Chapter:**

Harry and Draco featured as . . . rocks. Wait. Rocks?

Draco reintroduces himself to the other two-thirds of the Gryffindor Trio. Oh boy.

A banana named Cocomo. Huh?

And lots, lots more!


	2. The Green and the Bean

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

* * *

**_To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane_**

**The Green and the Bean**

_By: Roslyn Drycof_

Draco sat in a large, squishy chair that had the ability to spin around in circles. It was currently spinning. He was bored. The therapist was taking forever! He'd had to wait in the stupid waiting room for an hour as Lockhart's appointment took forever because the man had apparently gone into an episode where he believed that fuchsia, polka-dotted cheese was taking over the world. Then, although Draco had been called back twenty minutes ago, the therapist had yet to arrive.

This was bloody ridiculous.

Where was the stupid shrink?

Suddenly, the chair stopped spinning and Draco had to grip the armrests tightly to avoid falling out of it and onto the floor. He immediately narrowed his eyes into a glare and turned to face whomever had done that to him. And he gasped. "Bean!"

A tall woman in her mid-thirties, a wild mane of curly violet hair tumbling down her back, grinned at him. "I see you've gotten over your fear of the color green, Dray."

He lifted a hand to twirl the emerald strands, sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess so."

With a twinkle in her violet eyes that matched her hair, Demetria Bean sat down in the therapist's chair and picked up Draco's chart. She quickly scanned what was newly written there and raised a slim eyebrow. "Dray, why does it say here that you're exhibiting signs of schizophrenia?"

He shrugged. "I dunno." Starting to spin around in the chair again, he started humming to himself the song Greensleeves.

"Yes, you've really gotten over your phobia of the color green, it appears. But Draco, I don't believe for one minute that you're schizophrenic."

The green-haired youth slowly stopped spinning, halted his humming, and said, "Why not? Everyone else does, including the oh so powerful Dark Lord."

Dr. Bean gazed at him intensely and he ducked his head. He could never lie to her, not even when he was a bratty seven year old. "Okay, okay. I'm not."

"Then may I ask why you're so dead-set on convincing everyone that you are?" she asked, folding her hands together. She looked very professional, except for the shocking violet hair of course.

He looked away from her and up at the ceiling. "Bean, they were gonna make me a Death Eater. I couldn't do it, so I pulled a Hamlet."

His therapist, who had been the much needed guidance he'd had when he was a child who'd had an deathly fear of the color green, sighed and nodded her head in understanding. "You pulled a Hamlet. I must say, that was a very clever idea. But for how long do you plan on pretending to be loopy?"

Draco brought his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and cradled his head there. "As long as I have to. I can't let anyone know the truth or I'm screwed. Except . . . I don't know if I can keep it convincing. I hate acting foolish, you know that. And yet I have to. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Bean leaned forward and told him, softly, "You can always talk to me, you know. I always have an ear ready."

A small smile curved his lips then. "Thanks. Bean, is Potter's case serious?"

She wasn't surprised at the sudden turn of conversation. The Malfoy heir had always been prone towards changing topic when he felt uncomfortable or foolish. "You of all people know I can't reveal anything about another patient."

He gave her puppy eyes, but she remained firm in her resolve. "Draco, I can't. That's betraying doctor-patient confidentiality."

His silver eyes hardened, but Demetria could see a glimmer of pleading behind that coldness. "Bean, you have to."

"Give me one good reason I should betray his privacy like that," she demanded, leaning back in her chair to stare at him with equally hard eyes.

The squishy, spinny chair was suddenly pushed back as the once blond-haired boy stood up forcefully. His hands clasped tightly together behind his back, he began to pace. After a moment, he spoke. "Bean, please. If he's too far gone, how the hell will he ever defeat the Dark Lord?"

She rolled her eyes at his implication that Harry was raving mad. "He's not crazy; he merely has a phobia of performing magic."

He turned to face her abruptly, pointing his finger at her, knowingly. "He also has wizarding bipolar disorder."

"I thought you two were enemies. Why did he tell you this?"

Draco shrugged. "Competition." He said the word as if it explained everything, which oddly, in a weird way, it did.

"I see. Still, even with both conditions, he's not bonkers."

"I know that. But if he can't perform magic, he can't defeat Voldemort!" He had shouted the last words, emotion leaking into his voice for the first time in a long while. Bean was surprised. Draco rarely showed emotion unless it was anger or scorn. Things such as desperation and pleading never were never displayed by the aloof Slytherin youth.

She sighed and prayed that Merlin forgave her for the thing she was about to do. "Harry cannot actively perform even the slightest magic. When provoked, his magic will act on its own, but when it does, it has a profound effect on him and sends him into hysteria. At the moment, I have no idea how I can help him, as his phobia is closely tied together with his trauma over his godfather's death. He subconsciously believes that magic is the cause of everything that has gone wrong in his life: his parent's death, his mistreatment at the hand of the Dursleys, Cedric's death, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning, and Sirius' death. After an initial breakdown earlier in the summer, he has shut himself away from Sirius' death and refuses to come to terms with it and the war. Unfortunately, I have yet to make any breakthrough in breaking through his walls."

What she said only reinforced Draco's fears and he collapsed into the squishy chair. "Damnit, Bean, this can't happen! He has to defeat Voldemort. He _has_ to!"

The real emotion she head in his voice caused a lump in her throat. She wished she knew how to fix Harry, but she, one of the best wizarding psychiatrists in the country, had no idea what to do. "I don't know what to say, Dray. Maybe if he finds someone to trust in enough he can release the pain that is obviously locked away in his mind, but other than that, I have no idea."

His silver eyes flared and he gasped, "That's it! No, wait. How the hell am I going to find someone he can trust like that? He doesn't even trust the Weasel and Mudblood like that!"

The therapist narrowed her eyes in contemplation at his words, and the way he said them. "How do you know he doesn't trust them that way?"

Draco bit his lip and his eyes slid away from her scrutiny. "Um."

Her gaze intensified and he fidgeted. Finally, he couldn't take her eyes on him like that any longer and he blurted out, "Because I watch him . . .and . . .I see things. He used to trust them more when we were younger, but ever since fourth year, he's been hiding things. I can tell; he's a bad liar, or at least bad compared to a Slytherin."

As he had been speaking, she had been observing him closely. There was a light flush on his cheeks and his eyes shone with sympathy for the Gryffindor. My, could he like the boy? "And how long have you liked him?"

A bright tomato-red stained his cheeks and his eyes flew open wide. "W-what! I don't like him!"

"Yes, and I'm a house elf named Meesy with an infatuation for wearing diapers on my head. You've never been able to lie to me."

He growled at her blatant mockery. "You're supposed to be my therapist, all caring and nice! Not rude and . . . and — damnit, Bean! All right, I've liked him since third year. Okay?"

"You really have gotten over the color green, haven't you?" She couldn't resist saying to the embarrassed boy. If it was even possible, he flushed brighter.

"Hey!" So what if Potter's eyes were an impossibly deep green that just begged for someone to drown in them? That didn't mean anything!

The clock hanging above the door chimed the hour and both patient and doctor turned to look at it in surprise. "Well, time sure flew by fast. I'll see you next week, Dray."

He wrinkled his nose at her, silently fuming that she had gotten away with making fun of him like that and that he hadn't even had a chance to get back at her. Grr. "Fine. If I come at all."

"Just for that, I think I'll write down on your chart that weekly visits are highly advisable in order to maintain whatever semblance of sanity you have. Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy!"

Huffing angrily, he stood up and strode to the door. He practically yanked it open and stormed down the hallway. His mother was waiting in the waiting room, sitting across the room from the bored looking Potter and Mr. Weasley. "We're leaving now, mother," he snarled, coming to a stop in front of her.

Narcissa immediately frowned. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"Bean's a cruel bint who should be locked up in Azkaban! We're leaving!" he shouted, crossing his arms.

His mother sighed, knowing that when Draco got into one of his pouts, almost nothing could bring him out of it. "Fine, dear. Just stop sulking; it's not proper Malfoy behavior."

For that, he whipped out his wand and gave her a wart on the tip of her nose. It was something he hadn't done since he was eight, and she sighed again. "Draco, I told you several times when you were younger that giving me a wart doesn't work."

He scowled blackly and seeing the receptionist staring at them goggle-eyed, he lost his temper. He turned her into a teacup again. See how she liked that!

Potter started laughing and Draco growled. He was having a really bad day and it was all _his_ fault! "Potter, shut the bloody hell up!"

He turned Potter's hair crimson red. Then, seeing the vibrant color, which actually brought out his emerald eyes quite nicely, he burst out laughing. Inwardly, he thought he really was going insane since he usually never switched from anger to laughter like that. Still, he kept laughing.

"Ack! My hair!" Potter screeched, pulling a strand of his bangs away from his face to peer at the flamboyant color. Then when he saw the color, he tilted his head and said, "Actually, that's not so bad. I like it."

Draco then let out a frustrated sigh. It wasn't as funny if he wasn't mad!

"Draco, I thought we were leaving," Narcissa reminded him. She was frowning at his antics. He was acting peculiarly like he had when he was seven, and he had been a right hellion when he was that age. Think terrible twos multiplied by five.

"I've decided I don't feel like it," he said childishly. Although he didn't actually want to leave, he purposely added the child-like voice to add to his act of insanity.

A look reminiscent of his childhood, when she had gotten fed up with him (which was most of the time), entered her eyes and she suddenly gripped his arm and propelled him towards the door. "Say goodbye to your friend, Draco. We are leaving."

He dragged his feet, but she had a death-grip on him and he was forced to follow her or fall over. And although he was pretending to be insane, he drew the line at falling on his arse like a complete idiot. Complaining loudly, he followed her, leaving Potter to wave goodbye and Mr. Weasley to turn the receptionist back into a human for the second time that day.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short and sorry it took so long to post. I kind of forgot about it for a while, and I've also been crazy-busy with bowling, musical, and hw. It's amazing; I actually have a life for once! (I never knew how much work it took to keep up with, either)

To anyone who is wondering about any and all of my stories that are mysteriously not being updated, I want to apologize profusely. Writers' block has come up and bit me in the butt big time and so I am currently unable to write anything worth posting. Yes, my almost obsessive-compulsive perfectionism is rearing its ugly head, also. So . . . I hope that soon I'll be able to produce something worthwhile.

Just a sidenote: I'm 18 now! Woohoo! I can by instant lottery tickets! (and boy, are they fun!)

Okay, I'll shut up now. Thanks to anyone and everyone who has expressed an interest in this story. It is really fun to write, though I hope it isn't too off the wall!


	3. We Will Rock You

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

_**To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane**_

**We Will Rock You**

By: Roslyn Drycof

Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express with trepidation. Now his act of insanity was going to be put to the real test. He had to act like a raving madman in front of his classmates. 24/7. It was enough to make anyone want to turn around and go back to bed.

Instead, he squared his shoulders and strode down the corridor, looking for somewhere to begin perpetuating his charade as an idiot. When he found the compartment where the Golden Trio sat chatting, he felt as if he'd discovered a gold mine. Potter already thought he was insane, and annoying Weasley and the mudblood would be a brilliant tactical move. Weasley would have it spread that the proud Malfoy was stark raving bonkers by the time the Welcoming Feast was over later that night.

"Hallo!" Draco chirped, plopping himself down on the cushioned bench next to a frustrated looking Potter. Across the compartment, Granger and Weasley glared at him. Draco felt a thread of pleasure flow through him when he realized he'd interrupted Potter's sidekicks' interrogation of the troubled hero. Hah! Take that, you foul excuses for best friends! Interrogating your poor, mentally challenged best friend. It was reprehensible!

Even more pleasure flowed through Draco when he became the recipient of a tired looking smile from the Boy Wonder. "Hey. So Bean hasn't cured you yet?"

Draco widened his eyes. "Cured? Why would I need to be cured? It's the rest of the world that's insane, not me!"

Harry grinned. "Sure, Malfoy. Still sporting the green hair, are you? Nice."

Draco's response was to raise an eyebrow at the other boy. Potter still had red hair, and it was almost two weeks since they had run into each other at the therapist's office.

"Harry, are you being nice to the ferret?" Weasley asked his friend, disbelievingly. A frown twisted his lips and he looked ready to throw Draco from the compartment.

Anger curled through Draco at being called a ferret. He had never liked that appellation. "It's rich being called a ferret by a weasel. Fuck off."

Weasley turned his attention to him. Flushing red, the boy spluttered, "You have no right to be here, Death Eater scum!"

"Do you see a Dark Mark? No!" Draco shouted, pulling up his sleeve and pointing to the unblemished skin that was revealed. Then, he suddenly realized that he was acting completely in character with his sane self, and quickly thought of what he could do to change that. Forcing tears to well in his eyes, he whimpered, "The esteemed Dark Lord wouldn't let me have one. He said I'm too f-f-foolish."

Suddenly a head popped into the compartment. It was Ginny Weasley, who had recently been made a prefect. "Ron, Hermione, prefect's meeting. Hi Harry. Hey why's Malfoy crying like a baby?"

Hermione shook her head, speechless. She was stunned at Malfoy's behavior. First he was being inordinately friendly with Harry. Next he was his typical malicious and angry self. Then he was crying about being rejected as a Death Eater. He sounded bonkers!

The three prefects left the compartment without saying anything. Each frowned at leaving Harry with Malfoy, but the idiot looked harmless and they weren't fighting.

Draco's eyes lit up when the compartment door shut behind the three annoying Gryffindors. Alone at last…with Potter! He turned to look at the other boy, worriedly noting the shadows under his eyes. "Still can't do magic?"

Potter shook his head. "I don't' know why everyone's insisting on me coming back to school this year, when it's obvious I can't do anything."

"You can still learn theory," Draco said.

The emerald-eyed boy wrinkled his nose. "Theory is boring."

A grin curved Draco's lips. Of course the Boy Who Lived would think theory was boring. "If you don't know how to do something, then you can't just go out and do it. You might blow something up or something."

Potter snorted. "I've already blown stuff up this summer, and that's when I knew what I was doing. It just doesn't work right."

Draco shrugged and leaned back against the seat cushion. "That's just because you have that weird magical problem right now."

The other teen shrugged back at him and didn't say anything. Silence fell between them, and Draco closed his eyes. He knew he wasn't acting very crazy, but he found he couldn't expend the effort just then. It felt nice to be normal for once.

After awhile he opened his eyes to see Potter staring out the window, unusually tense and motionless. Draco frowned. "Potter?"

The other boy didn't answer and so Draco became alarmed. "Potter, answer me." Still no answer. Draco reached out an arm to shake the frozen boy and was disturbed to see no reaction. Potter wasn't frozen in the sense of being Petrified, but he seemed unaware of reality. Draco mused that it must be a part of his mental condition. He relaxed slightly. This probably happened to Potter often.

A minute or so passed and Draco found himself bored. Potter still wasn't moving. "Potter, you're boring."

Not so much as a flicker.

"Snotty Potty, wake up. You're a dunderhead."

Nothing.

Draco growled. He didn't like being bored.

Suddenly an idea struck him. He didn't know if he actually had a predilection for being insane, as his crazy ideas seemed to come to him rather easily, but he found himself reaching for his wand and waving it between him and Potter. Suddenly, the world was rather large and in varying shades of gray. He grinned.

Or rather, he would have grinned if he a mouth. Currently, he had no such feature. Indeed, he had no human features whatsoever.

_Malfoy!_ A terrified voice screeched, and Draco turned his attention to the being on the cushion beside him. Again, he would have grinned if he were able. _Hallo, Potter!_

_What the hell did you do? You're a rock! I-I'm a rock! Help meeee! _The other boy yelled. Across the expanse of seat cushion, a gray rock the size of a person's fist shook.

Draco started laughing, almost hysterically. His rock shape started vibrating with the force of his laughter. He could just feel the terror emanating from the other rock. _Mwahahaha!_

_Malfoy, this isn't fucking funny! Turn me back!_ Potter cried out.

Draco pretended to think for a moment. _Um, no. If you're going to act like a rock, then you might as well be one._

Silence reigned. Then a tiny voice asked, _I was doing the unaware thing?_

Draco nodded, then realized that as a rock he couldn't make that motion, and replied, gently, _Yes. But I got you out of it, see?_

A laugh was his response and Draco felt relief course through him. _Yeah, yeah you did. But Malfoy, Ron and Hermione are going to be plenty mad when they realize what you've done._

_That's assuming they realize _we_ are the rocks, and didn't really just walk off. _This was said teasingly, but Harry's responding laugh was threaded with nervousness.

_They'll know, right? Right?_

Draco didn't answer for a few moments, enjoying putting Potter through the suspense, and then smothered a chuckle. _Of course they will. Our clothes are sitting right here, without us. What do you think they'll think? That we're prancing around naked?_

_No…oh shit, Malfoy! What if they move us while we're still rocks and then turn us back? We won't be in our clothes!_

Draco couldn't help the laughter then. He imagined the reactions of Potter's friends and if he wasn't a rock at the moment, would have split his side from laughing so hard.

It was ten minutes later that Hermione and Ron walked into the compartment and abruptly stopped, staring at the scene in front of them with twin looks of horror on their faces. Harry and Malfoy were gone. Their clothes were lying on the seats where they had been when they'd left for the meeting, and yet the boys themselves were gone. In their place were two rocks.

"Harry? Malfoy?" Hermione called out, stepping further into the small compartment. There was no answer, and then she heard a snigger. It sounded suspiciously like Malfoy.

She frowned. Could Harry and Malfoy be under the invisibility cloak? No, impossible. Why would they be under the cloak while wearing no other clothing? That was insane…oh no. Malfoy had appeared to be less than sane earlier, and Harry was admittedly suffering from a mental condition or two at present. She meeped, suddenly very worried.

Draco saw the two prefects' twin looks or terror and couldn't help but snigger. Then he realized that he could hear his snigger, and not just in his head. But he'd been talking to Potter with his mind.

_Potter?_ He questioned, bewildered.

_Yeah?_ The other boy responded, a note of puzzlement in his voice.

Ok, so they were talking mind to mind. Mentally frowning, he tried speaking aloud. "Can anyone hear me?"

"Of course we can, Malfoy, you twit!" Ron Weasley's angry voice answered him.

Draco widened his eyes, figuratively of course. If he could talk normally, then why the hell were he and Potter able to talk mentally? A thread of worry curled through him. What was going on?

His worry increased even more, and then with a thought of _Oh dear Merlin, no!_ he realized that the new worry he felt wasn't his own. It felt strange, feeling like Potter, if that was possible. He looked to the other rock and saw it shaking.

_Malfoy, why did you just curse?_

_Because I can hear you! And feel you! And yet we can talk normally too! This isn't good. Oh Merlin, it better not be permanent!_ Draco ranted, freaking out.

"Ahhh! You can't be serious!" Harry's voice shouted throughout the compartment.

Draco would've grinned if he wasn't still in the midst of freaking out, although Malfoys never "freaked out". They might become mildly bothered by a problem, but never went so far as to freak out. It just wasn't done.

"Harry, mate, where are you?" Weasley asked, peering around the compartment.

Nervous laughter came from the Boy Who Was A Rock. "Right here."

"Where is here?" Hermione questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"Here."

"Harry, that doesn't help. I don't see you! All I see is a ro…oh no. Oh no no no…" the brilliant witch trailed off, staring at the two rocks on the seat cushion.

Draco, deciding to worry about whether the mind speaking ability was permanent later, chirped happily, "Hi, Granger! You're very gray today."

_Malfoy, how can you be so chipper at a time like this?_ Potter shouted mentally.

_Well for one, I'm legally bonkers. For two, I decided to worry about this whole mental talking thing later._

Silence fell between the two boys, and then Potter's voice sounded, _Oh. Ok. Smart idea. Mess with Ron and 'Mione now. Worry later. Cool._

Draco hadn't known that Potter had a sense of humor that seemed to quite match his own, but was pleased to discover it was so. Playing with people was a fun pastime.

"Malfoy, what in the bleeding hell did you do?!" Weasley shouted, his face turning an ugly shade of red.

Draco grinned. Or didn't, as the case may be. "Turned Potter and myself into rocks. It's quite an enlivening experience. You should try it sometime. Cools you down, you know."

Ron growled. Harry laughed. "Don't be angry, Ron. Malfoy didn't do anything wrong."

The redhead merely growled again. "He turned you into a bloody _rock_, Harry! I'd say there's plenty wrong with that!"

Harry the rock shifted violently, and tipped to the floor. A surprised exclamation escaped him, and then a breathless laugh as the rock wobbled and then began rolling towards the still-ajar compartment door. As he rolled through the doorway, he shouted, "I'm having fun, so don't you dare try to stop me, Ron!"

Draco gaped at the departing rock and frantically tried to figure out how to move like that. He concentrated on rocking to the left. Ok, there was a little movement. He tried again, really forcing his body to move. _There, there, just a little more…_He rolled over. He crowed triumphantly.

Uh oh. That brought the two angry sidekick's attention to him. Weasley, his face still that hideous purplish-red color, stepped towards Draco. Draco meeped and violently rolled to the right. Twice. Concentrating, he thought, _FORWARD!_ He plopped to the floor.

Satisfaction coursing through his gray, stony body, Draco began rolling himself repeatedly forward. At the sound of Weasley's feet following him, he rolled faster. _Must escape!_

Soon, he lost Weasley as he catapulted himself faster and faster until he was almost a blur. Of course, the repeated motion was making him quite dizzy, so he had to stop when he made it into the next car. If he'd had legs, they would have collapsed under his body.

_Psst, over here!_ A voice hissed.

Draco started, then noticed a shadowy form in the shape of a rock in the doorway to the luggage compartment. He mentally grinned toothily. Safe haven! Certainly Weasley would never think to look in the luggage compartment!

He rolled himself forward some more until he was situated inside the slightly chilly compartment. Luckily, being a rock meant that the temperature didn't really bother him. He was a rock. He was meant to withstand the elements.

Potter's exuberant laughter caught his attention and he looked over to the other rock. It was vibrating, and Draco couldn't help but begin to vibrate as well. This was turning out to be a rather amusing adventure!

Draco then couldn't help but wonder, _What if pretending to be insane wasn't going to be so bad after all?_

_------------_

A/N: After many many months of having extreme writer's block, I have managed to produce something. I meant to update one of my other stories, but my penchant for thinking up fun, insane things took me over and thus another chapter of complete insanity for our Hamlet-esque Draco and troubled hero Harry. I hope you've enjoyed this! I'm also hopeful that perhaps now my writer's block is gone. Or at least a trickle of ideas can pass through the blockade?

However, I must warn that I've also just started classes and those plus all the hw my professors like to throw at me will limit my writing time. BUT I WILL TRY MY BEST!


	4. Hit the Floor

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

* * *

To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane

**Hit the Floor**

_By: Roslyn Drycof_

Harry and Draco were human again by the time the train arrived at Hogsmeade. After spending most of the trip in the luggage compartment, they had realized that perhaps staying in that shape any longer would have been illogical. As rocks, they could not move very fast, nor could they climb into carriages. Or eat. Harry was quite concerned about the eating part.

So they had rolled back to the compartment and had Hermione transfigure them back. Unfortunately, she was unable to successfully finish the transfiguration. They were still left with a particularly gray pallor to their skin.

"I look like a zombie!" Draco had screeched, staring into the hand mirror he'd conjured. This had induced Potter to laughter, which thus induced Draco to smack him. Weasley hadn't liked that, so he'd socked Draco in the face. A large bruise now decorated Draco's cheek, a rather gray bruise, but still tender and slightly swollen like all fresh bruises are.

Draco shared the Golden Trio's carriage, and followed them into the Great Hall. They were rather perplexed, but understanding dawned on their faces as they saw the behavior of the Slytherins when Draco left them to sit at his House table. Sneers and jeers, jibes and smirks rose from the snakes, and Draco shrunk in on himself at the blatant mockery.

"I hear the Dark Lord says you're not fit to lick his boots, Malfoy," a seventh year whose name escaped Draco at present crowed.

Draco's silver eyes flashed. His pride absolutely hated that he was being made fun of. He was one hundred times better than these fools who thought they were great for following a crazy snake-man who wanted to pretty much destroy the world. And they though _he_was the insane one!

Still, his act was working and that gave him some measure of relief. Jutting out his lower lip and furrowing his brows, he pretended to look tearful. "It's not fair! I'm the most powerful wizard in our year except for bloody Potter!"

That was a proven fact, and it angered several of the Slytherins that such power was going to waste. Why in Grindelwald's name did he have to be insane? He could have helped turn the tide against those blood traitors!

Daphne Greengrass curled her lip in disdain. "Power means nothing when you're loonier than Loony Lovegood."

Draco lowered his face so that his hair shielded his still gray features. To those at his table and elsewhere in the Great Hall, they would think he was trying to fight tears. In reality, he was trying to get a hold on his anger. It was threatening to spill over.

Several minutes passed, during which time McGonagall went through the Sorting ceremony. Draco ignored it, staring at his plate. This was harder than he'd thought. Acting crazy in front of Potter and his friends wasn't too hard. They weren't his House, the people he'd once held power over. It used to be that his name caused fear, and thus toadying and a willingness to bend to his every wish.

Now? Now, he was nothing. He was just a pathetic excuse of a wizard to be pitied and stepped upon.

"Draco?" Blaise Zabini tried to catch his attention. Draco winced. Blaise was his best friend, and to have him think he was bonkers was even more humiliating than having the other Slytherins believe so.

Draco turned his eyes to the dark-haired Italian, forcing his expression to appear blank. His friend was frowning. "May I ask why you're gray?"

A flush stole up Draco's neck and cheeks, darkening his skin to an even grayer color. "Er."

Great, he was channeling Potter now. "I thought it would be fun to be a rock."

And that sounded even more stupid, although fitting perfectly with his façade of idiocy.

Blaise flicked his eyes to the Gryffindor table, where an equally gray Potter sat quietly eating his supper. "And why did you feel that Potter needed to enjoy the same pleasure?"

While the other boy hadn't meant to intimate anything other than involving Potter in his lark, Draco choked at alternate implication in those words.

He was saved from having to come up with a reply, as their Head of House strode up to the table, his coal-black eyes narrowed at Draco. "Malfoy, you're to go with Potter to see Madame Pomfrey to fix your, ahem, gray problem."

Relief sped through the blond, and he jumped up from his seat. He exaggerated his relief, grinning widely. "Yes, sir!"

Potter had already risen, and was waiting just outside the large doors that graced the entrance to the Great Hall. He was currently fiddling with the lock of hair that stubbornly fell into his face much of the time. Draco thought it was endearing, but immediately banished the thought from his mind. Now was not the time to be thinking things like that! Potter was sick.

"Let's go, shall we?" Draco said brightly, taking off down the corridor.

Potter followed silently for several minutes, then said, "You know, you're more interesting now than when you were a snarky bastard."

Draco chuckled. "I'm still a snarky bastard, Potter. I just feel no need to take it out on the mentally ill."

Potter rolled his gorgeous emerald eyes. "So says the mentally ill."

Draco didn't respond, merely shaking his head in amusement. Friendly banter with Potter was actually more fun than he'd thought it would be. Potter actually did have a funny side to him.

And then he had to go and be serious. "I saw how the other Slytherins were treating you."

Draco's face closed off. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But I know it has to hurt –"

Draco grabbed the other boy's arm, a scowl marring his features. "I said I don't want to talk about it, Potter!"

With that, he released him and stalked through the entrance to the infirmary that they'd conveniently arrived at. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them.

"Ah, there you two are." Potter had followed right behind Draco, and Draco could feel frustration roiling off the raven-haired hero in waves.

"I'll deal with Mister Malfoy first. Mister Potter, just have a seat right over there," the nurse said, motioning to a nearby bed.

Potter went to go sit, looking disgruntled. Meanwhile, Draco patiently waited for Madame Pomfrey to wave her wand and fix his grayness.

She didn't.

Well, at first she didn't. First she said, "Mister Malfoy, I have been informed of your disability, and I want to let you know that I am here to help if need be. That said, while Hogwarts is accommodating of disabilities, we must insist that you continue to see a therapist while attending school."

He frowned. Would they assign some stupid medi-witch from St. Mungo's to come every week and pick apart his brain?

He lucked out. "Every Tuesday after your last class, you and Mister Potter will come to my office to floo over to Healer Bean's. Understand?" the kindly medi-witch continued.

A nod was his response. She smiled and flicked her wand at him. Immediately, Draco noticed that his skin color was back to normal.

"Oh dear, would you look at that bruise?!" she tsked, bustling over to a cabinet.

Draco refrained from stating the obvious, that no, he could not look at the bruise unless he had a mirror. Instead, he sat down on a bed and waited for her to bring over a healing salve. Within a few moments the ointment was rubbed over his cheek and he felt the tingling effects as the bruise was erased.

Madame Pomfrey then moved over to Potter. She removed the gray skin color first, and then gave the same speech to the frowning Gryffindor. After finishing that speech, she continued talking. "…and now I must perform regular tests to see how you're progressing in retaining your magic use. I'll start while you're here now."

Potter's frown transformed into a black scowl. "It's going to tell you the same thing it's been saying the whole damned summer…I can't do it!"

The nurse pursed her lips and shook her head. "That may be, but we still need to check. It's important to monitor it to see what may or may not be helping it."

He crossed his arms and glared mutinously at the floor as lifted her wand and began moving it in a complex pattern in front of him.

Draco was perplexed. Potter seemed almost resigned to the fact that he couldn't do magic, almost as if he didn't want it back.

But that was preposterous.

Wasn't it?

A golden glow surrounded the sullen Gryffindor, growing in intensity until it nearly blinded Draco. It was a physical manifestation of his magic, and Draco was stunned to see how powerful Potter really was. What was also surprising was that there looked to be nothing dampening the magic, nothing holding it back from working properly.

Apparently Madame Pomfrey saw the same thing. Her voice held confusion as she said, "Harry, you're magic is in working order."

Potter snorted. "Your spell may think so, but it's not."

She lowered her wand and the golden glow disappeared. Raising her hands to her hips, she ordered him to try a spell. Potter immediately reacted by shaking his head vehemently. She repeated the order, frustration apparent in her sharp gaze.

She didn't notice the flash of terror in Potter's eyes, nor the fact that several of the beds in the infirmary were started to vibrate. Draco did, and he opened his mouth to tell the medi-witch to stop when suddenly Potter grabbed his wand from his robe pocket and shouted an incantation at a vase on the nightstand next to the bed he stood near. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

It exploded, as did every other breakable object in the room. Vases, cabinet windows, potion's bottled, windows, mirrors, they all shattered. Glass was flying everywhere, and Draco dropped to the ground, trying to create as small of a target as possible.

A piece of glass slashed Madame Pomfrey's cheek, another tearing her gown at the sleeve. She shrieked and erected a shield to protect herself.

Harry saw the damage he'd caused, and as Draco would later put it, he freaked. His eyes rolled up into his head and he covered his head with his arms, shaking like a leaf in the wind. The beds that had been merely vibrating earlier were now violently shuddering and began to levitate. The glass, which had just started falling harmlessly to the floor, rose up again and began whipping around the room.

Feeling rather terrified, Draco tried to cast a shielding spell to protect himself like Pomfrey had. His mouth wouldn't work properly, and all that came out were whimpers as he felt his skin sliced again and again.

Through the haze of fear clouding his mind, he noticed one glaring fact—Potter wasn't getting cut. There was a three foot circumference around the unresponsive boy that was completely glass-free. Draco made a split second decision and lunged at him. He landed on his knees at Potter's feet, gasping.

Blood trickled from several shallow wounds on the blond, but he ignored them as he sighed in relief that he was no longer in the war zone. Apparently during magical outbursts, Potter was like the eye of a hurricane.

Rising to his feet, Draco noticed that Madame Pomfrey's shield was flickering. It would fail any moment now. She also seemed frozen with that realization.

Seconds that really felt like minutes passed, and Draco knew he had to do something. Perhaps it was that he was really getting into his role as mentally unhinged, because the idea that popped into his head was anything but sane.

Hopefully it was crazy enough that it would draw Potter out of his catatonic state.

Draco raised his wand with trembling fingers, closing his eyes and wishing really hard for his magic to obey him. He didn't know any spells that would do what he asked, so he hoped that just thinking what he wanted would work, such as when he'd been a spoiled child with the impatience of a Hippogriff.

Amazingly, it worked, even though the wizarding world held that willful magic could not work for anyone but a child whose magic hadn't centered into their magical core yet.

Draco would think about the possibilities of his feat later.

Now all he hoped was that his little conjuring would get through to Potter.

_I was tired of my lady,_

_We've been together too long._

_Like a worn-out recording,_

_Of a favorite song._

_So while she lay there sleeping,_

_I read the paper in bed._

_And in the personals column,_

_There was this letter I read:_

A strong voice sang, sounding throughout the entire room. Singing was a six foot long banana with a moustache and soulful blue eyes.

_"If you like Pina Coladas,_

_And getting caught in the rain._

_If you're not into yoga,_

_If you have half-a-brain._

_If you like making love at midnight,_

_In the dunes of the cape._

_I'm the lady you've looked for,_

_Write to me, and escape."_

Draco had to admit that the banana had a great voice.

_I didn't think about my lady,_

_I know that sounds kind of mean._

_But me and my old lady,_

_Have fallen into the same old dull routine._

_So I wrote to the paper,_

_Took out a personal ad._

_And though I'm nobody's poet,_

_I thought it wasn't half-bad._

Madame Pomfrey's shield winked out of existence just as the shards of glass dropped to the floor with tinkling sounds. The beds immediately followed, hitting the floor much more loudly.

_"Yes, I like Pina Coladas,_

_And getting caught in the rain._

_I'm not much into health food,_

_I am into champagne._

_I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon,_

_And cut through all this red tape._

_At a bar called O'Malley's,_

_Where we'll plan our escape."_

Harry's eyes slowly opened, the emerald orbs blinking with confusion. His arms lowered slowly and he dropped his wand, which he had been clutching almost to the breaking point in his right hand.

He stared at the banana, which continued to belt out the words to a song he'd once seen his Aunt Petunia dancing and singing to when she'd thought no one was around.

_So I waited with high hopes,_

_Then she walked in the place._

_I knew her smile in an instant,_

_I knew the curve of her face._

_It was my own lovely lady,_

_And she said, "Oh, it's you."_

_And we laughed for a moment,_

_And I said, "I never knew…_

A smile curved his lips and soon it was a full-fledged grin as he saw Draco bobbing his head along to the music.

_That you liked Pina Coladas,_

_And getting caught in the rain._

_And the feel of the ocean,_

_And the taste of champagne._

_If you like making love at midnight,_

_In the dunes of the cape._

_You're the love that I've looked for,_

_Come with me, and escape."_

He motioned to the blond, his eyes twinkling. Draco stopped his head bobbing and raised an eyebrow in the typically Malfoy-ish way of his. Harry mouthed, "Did you do this?"

Draco nodded, a light blush tingeing his cheeks.

Harry grinned again and opened his mouth wide…to sing.

_"If you like Pina Coladas,_

_And getting caught in the rain._

_If you're not into yoga,_

_If you have half-a-brain._

_If you like making love at midnight,_

_In the dunes of the cape._

_I'm the lady you've looked for,_

_Write to me, and escape."_

The music slowly dwindled away, and Harry clapped. The banana took a bow, grinning widely. "Thank ye, gents. Now if ye don't mind, Cocomo's got another gig at Ritzy's Pub he's got to get to."

Draco waved his wand and the banana disappeared in a puff of smoke.

There was silence for a few moments and then Madame Pomfrey exhaled loudly. "Next time warn me about the side effects of your attempts at magic, Mister Potter."

The Boy Who Lived bit his lip and nodded. "I'm sorry."

She sighed, "No real damage done. Off to your dorm while I fix Mister Malfoy here."

Harry nodded again and muttered a quick apology to Malfoy, before hurrying out of the destruction that was the infirmary.

"All right, Mister Malfoy. Let's see about fixing these scrapes…" the nurse said, bustling over to her patient.

* * *

A/N: I promised a banana name Cocomo, and here he was. Don't ask me why, but I thought it would be amusing to see a banana singing about Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. Lol.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would absolutely love it if you reviewed. Much thanks ahead of time! Oh, and I should have the next chapter up sometime before January…hopefully!


	5. A Potions Explosion Followed By

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, don't own Harry Potter!

Warning: slash, slight themes of angst, lots of humor and insanity

* * *

To Be Insane, Or Not To Be Insane

**A Potions Explosion Followed By A Revealing Bath**

_By: Roslyn Drycof_

"Potter and Malfoy, it is the Headmaster's belief that your ahem, conditions will benefit from working together," Professor Snape ordered Monday morning, his voice relaying the fact that he thought Dumbledore's belief was absurd.

Draco raised his eyebrow, but quietly moved his things to the desk next to Potter. The green-eyed boy was watching their professor with suspicion, and Draco wanted to laugh. And since it was in keeping with his charade, he did. Loudly.

Potter scowled at him and Draco turned his laughter into a brilliant smile. "Ready to make your first O potion?"

Disbelief shone in the other boy's eyes and Draco delicately shrugged. "My disability doesn't preclude me from still retaining my superb potions skills."

Draco then proceeded to open his potions book to the correct page and rolled his eyes at the instructions. Really now? This was sixth year potions and they were working on a mild truth potion. He knew how to brew this by his fourth year.

"Alright, Potter. I'll get the ingredients and I want you to study how to prepare them while I do that. Sound easy enough?"

Potter looked surprised at how Draco was treating him. Draco snorted. The Gryffindor probably expected him to shout out instructions and make him do all the work. What ridiculousness. He actually did want to get an O on the potion after all.

Several minutes later they were both peering over the lip of the cauldron as Draco stirred it three times counter clockwise. The liquid was a pale blue color and was steaming slightly. "Potter, now I need you to put in one thimbleful of powdered kneazle claws."

The inky haired boy grimaced, but did as he was told. Draco rolled his eyes. Potter's reaction was probably tied somehow to Granger's pet kneazle.

The potion turned an intense purple color, just as it was supposed to. He began stirring it clockwise until he had completed six full circles. "Final ingredient is a drop of human blood. I nominate you."

Potter curled his upper lip. "Why not you? You're the Potions genius."

Draco crossed his arms. "Exactly. I provide the expertise, and you provide the labor."

A curse was his partner's response, but the other teen dutifully picked up a clean knife and poked the tip to his index finger. He held it over the steaming cauldron and let a drop of blood fall cleanly into the potion. Instantly, the cauldron gave a poof and turned shimmery lavender with traces of gold.

Draco frowned, because he clearly remembered that it should be merely lavender. But they had followed the instructions word for word, minus the addition of an extra clockwise motion after the diced mandrake root and the subtraction of a counterclockwise motion after the unicorn hair. And those were steps he'd taken the last time, when it had still turned a proper lavender.

Potter peered at Draco's potions book and said, "It's not supposed to have the gold in it."

Draco pursed his lips. "Obviously, Potter. And the only thing that could've caused it is your mutant blood."

"Hey!" Potter growled.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "It was the proper color until you added your blood, so don't go getting offended at me. You must have abnormal blood."

They both peered into the cauldron again, Potter scowling darkly and Draco frowning. Really, Potter couldn't actually have abnormal blood…could he?

Suddenly, the gold in the potion started snaking around through the lavender and the potion started to bubble. Draco instinctively took a step back but it was too late. The cauldron exploded.

Instantly soaked in the gold and lavender potion, Draco closed his eyes. Why him? Potions was the one subject he had figured he could actually do well in since it didn't involve any wand waving or conjuring. And now that too was ruined! And during the first class of the year!

"Potter! Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?" Snape snapped, striding over to their workspace.

Draco pointed angrily at his partner, who was attempting to find something dry to wipe his glasses with. "It was Potter! The potion was absolutely perfect until he added his freakish blood!"

Snape paused, raising a single supercilious eyebrow. "Perfect, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Of course it was! I've made it a dozen times before, and it was always the correct simple lavender!"

Draco suddenly had the vision of Potter's magical core from the infirmary their first day back at Hogwarts. It had been a gold color exactly like the gold in the potion. How odd.

Snape must have noticed his thoughtful look and questioned him. Draco shrugged at his head of house. "His magical core is that color."

Potter gasped, his eyes going wide.

Seeing his reaction, Draco narrowed his eyes. Was Potter going to go all unresponsive again? He hoped not. It would take another magical effort to bring him out of it, and Draco didn't want to attempt any magic while still covered in their botched potion. Who knew what might happen! And for that matter, what had their potion turned into anyway?

Snape pursed his lips for a moment before waving at them. "Go clean up. Whatever Potter's blood may have done will not seriously alter the potion's original intent since all other instructions were followed correctly."

Both boy quickly gathered their things up and headed out of the classroom. Draco intensely disliked the feeling of his wet clothes sticking to his body and so he immediately detoured to the prefect's bathroom. He had been promoted to a prefect that year, and when Dumbledore had rescinded the offer, he had casually mentioned to Draco that should he have need of it, the prefect's bathroom would still be welcome to him. Draco had thought that odd of the Headmaster, but was thankful.

"Where are you going?" Potter asked, hurrying to keep pace with him.

Draco increased his strides. "The prefect's bathroom. Do you think I like being covered in this awful stuff any longer than possible?"

He noticed the other boy shrugging. They continued on in silence until they reached their destination. Once inside, Draco started stripping. While he didn't relish unclothing in front of his secret crush, he wanted the potion washed off more. And as Potter began to disrobe as well, Draco found himself sneaking glances at the other teen's muscled torso.

_Who knew those bulky clothes hid such a well-toned body?_ Draco mused as he slipped into the water.

The water felt extremely pleasant, and Draco dunked himself under the surface. He broke the surface moments later to find Potter doing the same. Water ran in rivulets down Potter's chest and Draco had to restrain himself from touching him.

"What was the potion supposed to do?" Potter asked him while fumbling around to pick up the glasses he'd hastily removed in order to submerge himself.

Draco rolled his eyes as he settled against the side of the tub. "Don't you ever read what it is you're making? No, I suppose that's too much effort. It was a truth potion. It's similar to veritaserum but the person whose blood is in the potion can make anyone who ingests that particular potion tell them the truth. A single dose lasts only ten minutes, however."

Potter scratched his head. "So how long would a whole cauldron work for?"

"Two hours, maybe?" Draco wasn't sure, but hoped that was all.

A considering look entered Potter's eyes. "So why didn't you put your blood in? You could've made me tell you anything you wanted."

The question made Draco slightly uncomfortable. To be honest, he didn't know exactly why he'd had Potter put his own blood in. "Because I wanted you to know some truths about me."

Wait. What? Gah! The truth potion was working!

Potter froze, then cocked his head slightly. "Hm. I guess it's working. Alright then. What do you want me to know?"

Draco clamped a hand over his mouth. "Mmpf."

The other boy smirked and Draco was disturbed to see that it mirrored his own usual smirk. His hand fell away from his mouth and he scowled. Then he said, "I want you to get better. I want you to kill that awful excuse for a wizard who should've just stayed dead."

Shock twisted the Gryffindor's features and Draco had the pleasure of seeing him speechless for several long minutes. Finally though, Potter crossed his arms and asked, "Then why have you been prancing around spouting all this nonsense about wanting to serve Voldemort and he refused you?"

Draco himself froze in shock. Shit. Potter was going to find out that he wasn't really insane. Knowing his mouth was about to betray him, he formulated his response into a silly but truthful response.

"I like Hamlet."

It was vague, it was silly sounding, and hopefully Potter would have no idea what he was saying.

"Hamlet, who pretended to be insane?" Potter's expression was dark.

Draco nodded, miserably. "Yes."

Potter stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "That's brilliant!"

Surprised that Potter wasn't cursing him for pretending to have a mental disability and doing rather insane things to Potter all said masquerade of insanity, Draco frowned. "Why aren't you mad?"

His former rival shrugged, leaning back on his arms in a rather relaxed looking pose that did nothing to put Draco at ease. "Oh I know I should be pissed off that you pulled all that stupid shit while just pretending to be insane, but it didn't hurt anyone so why get mad?"

Draco relaxed somewhat. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

Potter shook his head. "Obviously you're doing it to keep from becoming a Death Eater, so as long as you don't hurt anyone I'll keep your secret."

A sigh of relief escaped from between Draco's lips.

The two of them sat there silently for a few minutes, relaxing in the warm water. Draco didn't know what Potter was thinking, but himself? He was enjoying the view of a half-naked Potter, knowing that under the water Potter was actually completely naked.

"Malfoy?"

Draco started. It sounded as if Potter had already tried to get his attention and failed. Embarrassed, Draco furrowed his eyebrows into a scowl. "What?"

Potter was running a hand through his still-wet black locks. There was a considering look in his emerald eyes that Draco instinctively didn't trust. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Draco blurted out, trying to stall himself from spilling the truth.

The Gryffindor had a distinctly Slytherin look on his face as he answered, "Like you like what you see."

Draco wanted to groan. Instead, his betraying mouth replied, "Because I do like what I see."

Potter's lips twitched as if he were trying to hide a smile. But that was impossible. He was probably disgusted.

Draco submerged himself under the water, his embarrassment swamping him.

_Die, I want to die_.

A hand grasped his arm and pulled him to the surface. Potter was standing far too close for comfort, a definite smile on his face. "Want to know something crazy?"

This coming from someone certifiably nuts, Draco wanted to laugh. Instead, he cocked his head questioningly.

Potter's smile grew wider. "I like what I see too."

Draco was sure his eyes were as wide as saucers. "What?" he whispered faintly.

The other boy shrugged, but didn't let go of Draco's arm. "I know, crazy talk. You're a lot different without that Slytherin Prince mask you've worn the past five years."

That was what it took for Potter to like him? Getting rid of the Malfoy persona he had cultivated since birth? If he'd known before, he would've gotten rid of it earlier. Er. Maybe. He rather liked being the impenetrable, icy Slytherin Prince.

Suddenly lips were being pressed to Draco's and he gasped. Then he threw all coherent thoughts to the wind and kissed back, stepping closer to the slightly shorter boy. _Damn, his lips feel good._

They kissed for several minutes and Potter suddenly pulled away, grinningly madly. "I hope this truth potion lasts for as long as possible."

Draco raised his eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Potter's eyes twinkled as he said, "I hope to get a few convenient truths out of you…like what's your most sensitive spot?"

"My hipbones," Draco dutifully answered, then blushed hotly.

The next half an hour was then spent with Potter asking all sorts of interesting and more than a little naughty questions, and Draco answering them. And as soon as Draco answered them, Potter would then test out each and every answer.

_Who knew the Boy Wonder had this side to him?_ Draco wondered, quite happily as he enjoyed the attention currently being paid to that delicious spot just under the curve of his ear.

* * *

A/N: After many years of drought, a new chapter! I apologize if there isn't much insanity here, but I promise that the next chapter will have some interesting Draco antics. Please review, because the more reviews I get the crazier the next chapter will be! And slashy, mustn't forget the slash.

**NOTE TO REVIEWER EDIOU** (who by the way, posted anonymously so I can't just PM them) - It's only plagiarism if you intentionally take someone's ideas and use them as your own. Until you mentioned it, I'd never heard of this Macbeth fanfic. ALSO, my story was first published in 2005. Yes, 2005. I searched any Draco fics with Macbeth and all possible stories, including the one I think it is, were posted post-2005. So if there is any plagiarism to be found, it isn't mine. I really dislike being accused of something I am not guilty of, especially considering this is fanfiction and is already taking someone else's ideas and giving it our own spin.


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